


anything you have in mind

by returnsandreturns



Category: Psych
Genre: Coming Out, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, First Dates, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 03:27:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13515672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/returnsandreturns/pseuds/returnsandreturns
Summary: Gus asks if he can use Shawn’s laptop to check his stocks, and Shawn, barely paying attention, says, “Go ahead, Uncle Pennybags. Wait—Scrooge McDuck? Richie Rich? Wolf of Wall Street? There’re so many choices.”Five seconds later, he hears a tinny, distinctly male voice moan, “Fuck me, daddy, please,” and Gus make a surprised noise and immediately slams the laptop shut.Maybe if Shawn sits very still, Gus won’t be able to see him.





	anything you have in mind

**Author's Note:**

> i'm rewatching psych because it's up on amazon prime now and i have All Of The Feelings 
> 
> i think this'll have one more chapter, probably

Gus asks if he can use Shawn’s laptop to check his stocks, and Shawn, barely paying attention, says, “Go ahead, Uncle Pennybags. Wait—Scrooge McDuck? Richie Rich? Wolf of Wall Street? There’re so many choices.”

Five seconds later, he hears a tinny, distinctly male voice moan, “Fuck me, daddy, _please,_ ” and Gus make a surprised noise and immediately slams the laptop shut.

Maybe if Shawn sits very still, Gus won’t be able to see him.

“Uh, sorry,” Gus says, not looking at him, hands flat on the desk.

Shawn is sitting very still and cannot come to the phone right now.

Gus lets out a breath and turns towards him; he can’t resist meeting his eyes then wishes he didn’t, because he knows that face. It’s Gus’ _Sit Down and Stop Playing With That Yo-Yo, Shawn, We’re Going To Talk Like Adults_ face. Gus has had that face since they were eight.

“It’s not your fault that I’m apparently very careless with my adult video consumption,” Shawn says, as airily as he can manage when he’s contemplating stealing Gus’ car and just driving until he runs out of gas. “I’m a child of divorce, I wasn’t raised right. I blame my dad.”

Oh, god.

“That’s probably true, but—you know that you can talk to me, right?”

“About my daddy issues?” Shawn asks, then winces and immediately pulls his knees up to his chest and adds, “Oh dear _god_ , I just said that. Why am I like this? Where’s my parachute?”

“I meant you being gay,” Gus says, eyes wide, “but yeah—that, too.”

Shawn could’ve just laughed it off— _you know me and my weird porn, no big deal, perfectly natural, birds and bees and two super buff guys do it—_ but no, he had to use the phrase daddy issues within a literal minute.

“I have to lie on the floor now,” Shawn says, with dignity, crawling down to lie face down on the floor. “Okay, let’s talk.”

“Okay, the last time we had a floor discussion was when I tried to convince you to go to college,” Gus says, getting up to sit a few feet away from him, back against the chair, “and that was, to put it delicately, a _shit_ show.”

“College is a scam,” Shawn says, voice muffled, “perpetrated by the textbook industry and Red Bull.”

“I know,” Gus says, soothingly, and Shawn groans before he turns onto his back and stares intently at the ceiling.

“I’m not gay,” he says, twirling his hand in the air. “I’m just—sexual. I’m a sexual being, Gus. I don’t discriminate. I couldn’t possibly gatekeep the—the _wonderland_ that is my body.”

“Don’t quote John Mayer at me, Shawn,” Gus says, darkly. “We’ve talked about that.”

“I’m sorry,” Shawn says. “I didn’t like it either.”

A hush falls over the room, probably because neither of them wants to continue this conversation. Only, Gus offered and Shawn—kind of does. It’s not completely new, but he accidentally stumbled into the somewhat gross porn—if by _accidentally stumbled_ you mean _very intentionally typed the word daddy into the search bar while whistling and averting his eyes—_ but it’s become a more distinctly formed— _problem_ because of it.

He’s never talked about it before, though.

“It’s normal, you know,” Gus says. “The—that genre.”

“Well, there are five billion pornographic films about it, so I guess so.”

“. . .have you ever tried it?” Gus asks. He normally speaks with a certain amount of surefootedness but he sounds like he’s picking every word very carefully. Like he’s going to spook Shawn and he’ll run off like a wild horse—wait, stallion. Definitely stallion. “With somebody, I mean?”

Shawn shakes his head.

“Mostly been with women,” he says. “I don’t think they’d be into it. Well—Dina. Dina might’ve been into it. God, I miss Dina. Where did she go?”

“Was she the one that said she was leaving to follow Air Supply on tour and left you handcuffed to a hotel bed?” Gus asks.

“Right, yes. They weren’t even touring,” Shawn says, dreamily. “Oh, Dina. She used so much hairspray that I think I almost died in her car once, but I do think it would've been worth--”

“Shawn, what did I say the last time we had a floor discussion?” Gus asks, interrupting.

“. . .a mind is a terrible thing to waste? I remember because I was offended by the unoriginality.”

“No,” Gus says, flatly. “Stop changing the subject or I’ll give you a purple nurple that you’ll never forget. Is what I said. And _meant._ ”

“Kinky,” Shawn says, faintly. “I like it. Interested in becoming a dirty, filthy father figure? Maybe a preacher teacher?”

He’s joking, but Gus’ breath catches and Shawn shuts his eyes tight to avoid looking at his face because it will probably make the sudden image of being on his knees for Gus even more vivid. It’s not the first time he’s thought about Gus like that; it’s waxed and waned throughout the years, before Shawn even knew that he could like guys like that, but he’s always been kind of gone for him.

“I’m not sure I can handle that responsibility,” Gus says, but Shawn’s— _pretty_ sure that he’s actually _interested_. For all that he’s composed of about 50% intuitiveness (and 30% dashing charm and 15% snappy comebacks and 5% references to Val Kilmer movies), Gus is sometimes his blindspot.

“You don’t have to raise me,” he says, smiling cautiously but keeping his eyes shut. “I’m done grown up. I do my taxes. I pay my rent.”

“Shawn, _I_ do your taxes,” Gus says, “and—pay your rent, actually.”

“Well, there you go. Already taking care of me.”

“Yeah,” Gus says, voice softer. “I—I like doing that.”

“I _knew_ the Guster doth protesteth too much,” Shawn says, sitting up and grinning. “You get off on me being fiscally irresponsible. You’re my _sugar daddy.”_

He hears himself say the word before he fully realizes that he’s saying it, which is a reoccurring theme in his life. They can’t dance around it anymore now that he’s said it in context. It’s out there, big red neon lights—sorry, Gus, your best friend’s a sketchy weirdo who apparently really wants to call you _daddy,_ now that it looks like an option. 

They haven’t even kissed yet. This is all just one big pornographic hypothetical but—Shawn said the word.

“. . .sorry,” he says, after a second, laughing. “I shouldn’t have said that, probably.”

“Isn’t that what we’re talking about?” Gus asks, making a face. “ _Someone_ had to say it. I assumed it would be you because you, y’know, can’t control your mouth to save your damn life. Often _literally_.”

“Right,” Shawn says, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly as he nods. “Yeah. We _might_ also want to talk about the feelings I get—like, below the belt—when you’re kinda mean to me. Just. Eventually. If this is real.”

Gus’ eyes go wide for a moment.

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s real.”

“Okay, I’m going to ask you out on a date now,” Shawn says, having decided in a split second that, even though Gus is definitely the sexually domineering one, they might just teeter-totter in a terrible pre-sex stasis until Shawn makes the official first move, “because I think we’ve skipped fifteen steps and I want to hold your hand in a movie theater or split a milkshake or—or make out at a drive-in or something.”

“I’m not going on a date with you in the fifties, Shawn,” Gus says. “Black guys don’t do well in time travel scenarios.”

“. . .yeah, fair enough,” Shawn says, huffing out a laugh. “Let me buy you dinner?”

“Do you have any money?”

“. . .let me pay back for dinner at an undisclosed time in the future?”

Gus laughs.

“Nah,” he says, voice kind of low and sweet and holy _heck_ , that’s hot, Gus using that _trying to get laid_ voice on _Shawn_. “I’ve got you covered.”

*

“Is this where you take all the girls?” Shawn asks, happily, kicking Gus gently under the table. They’re at a little French bistro place that’s almost obnoxiously classy. There are no prices on the menus and Gus ordered wine for them that might be very expensive—Shawn doesn’t know, it sounds expensive because the name is French, but he knows nothing about wine and Gus was too demure to tell him—and the waiter looked vaguely offended at Shawn’s frankly flawless French accent.

“. . .kind of, yeah,” Gus says, after a moment, and Shawn grins at him.

“And I thought I was special,” he says, sighing dramatically and slumping down in his chair. “I’m just another one of your _floo_ sies. I get it. I’ll definitely put out after a couple of glasses of your—flatteringly expensive, I choose to believe—wine, you’ve got me right where you want me.”

“I’m normally trying to _date_ the women I take here, Shawn,” Gus says, rolling his eyes. “I’m looking for Mrs. Right.”

“First of all, I’m going to make fun of you for saying that for the _rest_ of our days,” Shawn says, then takes the little hopeful fire inside him and pokes it. “But what about—Mr. Right? Hypothetically? Just—curious.”

Gus looks shady for a second.

“I’m going to make fun of _you_ for saying _that_ ,” he says, hesitantly, “but uh—you’re the first.”

“. . .Gus, I’m honored,” Shawn says, too loud, putting a hand to his chest and trying to pretend like he’s not as shaky as he’s feeling. “I would be pleased as _punch_ to be the one to take your precious virginity.”

Gus throws a cloth napkin at his head.

“My first _man_ , Shawn,” he hisses, glancing around. They’ve garnered some attention. Shawn grabs Gus’ hand to make the most of it.

“Don’t be ashamed of our love, sugar dumpling,” he says. Gus glares at him but he also laces their fingers together. A woman nearby says _aww_ softly and Shawn smiles at her, turning back to Gus when his grip tightens.

“Game on,” Gus whispers, raising his eyebrows.

Shawn’s smile gets a little vicious.

*

“Look, I _had_ to do it!” Shawn says, laughing while Gus drags him out of the restaurant. “How else could I one-up you _tenderly stroking my cheek?”_

“Uhm, lots of things! You could— _kiss_ me, for one,” Gus says, letting go of him and putting his hands on his hips. “Proposing and then asking for free cake is not the next natural step from _cheek stroking_!”

“Agree to disagree,” Shawn says, brightly, before poking Gus in the middle of his chest. “Please note for the record, though, that you, my incredibly dateable friend, accepted that proposal. And you also got the cake to go, so, like— _pretty_ sure that’s legally binding.”

“We are not married,” Gus says.

“Gus, in some countries,” Shawn says, taking a step closer, “We’ve been married for _years_.”

That gets a smile out of Gus. It’s a different kind of smile than Shawn normally gets and it makes his palms sweat. It’s like Jackie Mendoza and the 7th-grade dance all over again. Journey should be playing in the background and he should be headed straight for second base.

“You could’ve kissed me,” Gus repeats, significantly.

Shawn’s mouth drops open. He wipes his hands on his nice jeans.

“I could have,” he agrees, rocking on his feet. “Do you _want_ me to—”

Gus interrupts him by cupping Shawn’s face in his hands and kissing him. It’s soft and cautious but then Shawn loops his arms around Gus’ neck and pushes up to kiss him back.

It’s good. No, that’s not enough—it’s _spectacular._ Shawn’s soul has ascended to a different plane. It’s—it’s a _Princess Bride_ kiss _for sure_. He’s never had one of those before.

“Oh, wow,” he says, shakily, when they break apart for air. “That’s—uh. That’s. Wow.”

“. . .are you speechless?” Gus asks, slowly.

Shawn makes an incoherent noise, gesturing vaguely at his mouth, the one that Gus just kissed the _hell_ out of.

“ _I_ made Shawn Spencer speechless,” Gus says, laughing. “Damn, I’m _good_.”

“Pretty good,” Shawn says. “Uhm—Gus?”

“Yeah?”

“Do it again.”

*

“We’re not hooking up on the first date,” Gus says, contradicting the way he’s basically lying on top of Shawn on his couch, grinding their hips together.

“Of course not,” Shawn says, breathlessly. “I’d never assume. You’re a lady, after all.”

Gus rolls his eyes and kisses Shawn roughly, biting at his lower lip.

“I’m just saying,” he says, voice low, “that I want to take this seriously. I’m very aware that doesn’t come naturally to you.”

“Yeah,” Shawn says. “I normally give it up _before_ the first date. Sometimes before we even meet.”

Gus laughs, breath warm on Shawn’s face.

“I’m gonna make you wait for it,” he says, smugly. Shawn almost whimpers. He’s not actually surprised at all that Gus is _great_ at this; he’s a huge nerd and sometimes just as ridiculous as Shawn is, but he’s the only one who’s ever remotely been able to rein Shawn in. Calm him down. Make him _stay._

“Okay,” he says, nodding.

“Okay what?” Gus asks, after a moment, sitting up to look at Shawn’s face, intent and nervous at the same time.

Shawn lets out a shaky breath and rubs his cheek against the hand curved over it.

“Okay, daddy,” he whispers.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm having a small shawn/gus meltdown [on tumblr](http://returnsandreturns.tumblr.com). otherwise, it's mostly daredevil.


End file.
